


Ghosts of the Past

by LordessScribes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AND THEN I THOUGHT, Multi, also like, angsty as hell, basically i came up with designs and personalities for the previous set of paladins, honestly i just wanted to kill some characters but hear me out first, i killed them all, klangst, paladins of old, so the ocs thing, they are technically ocs since they arent canon but i just expanded on possibilities, trans keith, trans pidge too while i'm at it, trans shiro, what if
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8391928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordessScribes/pseuds/LordessScribes
Summary: so these are technically self contained stories, its not like one big overarching story. the basic idea is that, over a period of weeks, each of the five paladins receive visions or dreams of their past lives, ie the paladins of old.who were they? what were they like and how were they a better team?find out by reading i guess.





	1. From Red

**Author's Note:**

> In which Red has a message for one of the paladins.

This cell was empty, like the last cell. The next one, then.

He sped down the corridor at full speed, long legs taking him the full distance he could muster with each frantic step. His bare feet made quiet tapping sounds in his wake, echoing off of the metal hallway that surrounded him. His breathing came in gasps and his chest was burning but he didn’t slow down, only skidding to a stop outside a gated prison cell for a split second before taking off again. The next cell for sure. He sprinted off again.

The ship was massive, but he was used to that. It’s dark metallic walls were lit dimly by the unpleasant purple lights along the hallway. Occasionally, a red insignia would be printed on the walls above the window. He felt a foreign surge of hatred spike through his chest whenever he saw it. The anger wasn’t his own, but it was. He had never felt such a personal anger at the symbol before, it had never been warranted, but it was.  

He paused at another empty cell, then kept running.

Logically, he knew he wouldn’t escape alive, but he couldn’t leave her alone. Not again. He couldn’t fight his way out. But it didn’t matter.

Who is ‘her’? Lance manages to wonder, but he doesn’t act upon the confusion, continuing to run as though he weren’t in control of his own body. Continuing to look. The next cell, she _had_ to be there.

It didn’t matter that he no longer had his familiar blue-patterned armor or his bayard or… or his lion. She was more important. She’d always been more important. How could he have been so awful these last few months? He needed to find her, needed to apologize before it was too late.

He wouldn’t escape with his life, but he also wouldn’t escape without a fight. Die trying. That’s a good end, right? How did he get here? Lance can’t remember what led to this. How did he lose his armor and lion? Why doesn’t he have his bayard? All he knows is that whoever he was looking for was in trouble. He needed to find her. _Who_ is ‘her’?

Another empty cell. More running.

He felt the stirrings of desperation prick at his mind. He was nearing the end of the prison block and hadn’t seen a single prisoner, much less the one who sent the signal. Where was she?

Then a spike of hope surfaced. Maybe she escaped. Maybe she got stole a pod and got away after sending the distress beacon. Maybe she-

His thoughts were cut off as loud voices reached his ears, coming from down the hall he’d just been. Galra.

His webbed hands clenched and shook with rage and he forced himself to duck around the corner. He couldn’t fight them off. Not without a weapon. But he wanted to. He really, really wanted to. And not just to fight them, he wanted to kill. He wanted their blood to spill, wanted to take down as many as he could just to know that he did. Wanted to wipe them all out himself. He wanted revenge, no…he wanted _justice._

Lance is suddenly afraid. Afraid of himself. Afraid of these out-of-place feelings in his mind. These weren’t his own emotions. Webbed hands?

Blinded by this negativity, he almost missed the bloodstains in front of him.

On the floor, splattered in still-wet scarlet drops… and on the far wall, in a huge stain, like something’d been thrown into it while bleeding heavily. Scales littered the ground with the blood. Black and white scales. His heart dropped to the floor, frozen. 

He didn’t think.

“Cyrene?! Cyrene!” His voice was choked, fighting back tears and shaky with terror and disbelief. He clamped a hand over his mouth, shaking violently. He couldn’t be too late. The beacon… it came only hours ago. She couldn’t have been found that quickly, she had to be alright! She was so fast and strong she couldn't have been caught. God no, please no. 

But the evidence on the walls tears away at his sanity rapidly. Please no. Not like this! He was so close. "Rin-R-Rinny! C'mon! Where are you! Cyrene!" 

And then he heard her. Scratchy, breathy, too weak to even draw a full breath, “Le…andros….?”

“Cyrene?!” who is Leandros? He was instantly at attention, dashing forward and whipping his head around in an attempt to find the source of her voice. She'd sounded just beside him, and he glances down at his feet. The trail of blood led right to the vent. The vent at his immediate right. The hope returned full force. 

He didn’t hesitate to yank off the screen, his long, grayish fingers easily prying the tall metal plate out of its hinges.

He almost sobbed with relief, setting the plate aside. Curled up around herself, with her arms pressed to her stomach and flinching back as the violet light reflected off of her reptilian features, she stared up at him in disbelief. She was alive. And she was familiar. Lance recognizes her, but he doesn’t. He can’t put his finger on where he remembers her from, and unlike everything else that had happened, he felt like he was acting on his own now.

She wasn’t moving to stand up, all she did was weakly lift her hand to him, almost like she needed confirmation that he was there. He was real.

“Leandros… you… you came back for me…” he took her hand and squeezed it.

“Of course I did.” He knelt down and held her face in his other hand. “But we can’t stay here, we have to go-“ he made to stand back up but her grip tightened and held him down.

“Leandros, I… I can’t.” he voice broke. She looked down into her lap, curling into herself more and squeezing her arm tighter against her stomach.

He paused, then slowly leaned down and peeled her arm away to see the stain. It was just starting to seep through the front of her shirt, but it had already puddled around her. The blood from the hallway, splattered on the wall from being shot and… and smudged on the ground from dragging herself to the secluded vent. “I can’t walk.” She finally choked out, confirming his suspicions.

 _Carry her_ , thinks Lance. _I can’t leave her behind._ He’s not sure why it breaks his heart to hear her so desperate and beaten, to see her so broken. Sure, it’s a pathetic sight, but…. He doesn’t know her. He’s never seen her before. And yet he can’t leave her behind. He begs himself to not leave her behind. Please don’t leave her behind.

He didn’t leave her behind.

A look of somber determination came over his features. He made his decision. He was not going to leave without her. He was not going to leave. Hadn't he already accepted that he wouldn't get out of this alive anyway? 

Carefully, so as to not hurt her, he stepped around so he could sit down behind her and pull her into his lap.

“What are you doing?” she protested, flinching we she attempts to turn around and look at him.

“Shhh.” He wrapped his arms around hers, cradling her against his chest. He could feel her heartbeat through his loose shirt. He could feel how fluttery and weak it was. His hands shook.

“You- you have to go! You have to escape, they’ll kill you a-and take Blue. You have t-“ she struggled against his arms for a moment, but her breath failed her and she couldn’t finish her protests.

“I’ve already hidden Blue. They won’t find her. I’m not leaving you.” Her desperate energy left her as quickly as it came, leaving her weak and out of breath. After a few pants of effort and with an exhausted sigh, she relaxed into his arms.

“…what happened… to the others?” she mumbled feebly. She wouldn’t stay conscious much longer. A knot formed in his throat but he ignored it. 

“Gallus and Paskal found uninhabited planets on the far corners. Tadica stayed on the ship. I-I think she’s going to hide it somewhere, too.” He knew she wouldn’t last long. It didn’t stop him from repeating the words ‘keep her talking and conscious’ in his mind. He shouldn’t drag it out, it wasn’t fair to him, but he did anyway.

Voices down the hall sounded again, closer this time, but the hatred from before didn’t return. In its stead was a jolt of fear. What would happen if they were found?

He didn’t get a chance to fill in the possibilities before she spoke again.

“I failed…” her words were a sob, her misery contagious. A pang went through his chest.  “I thought… I thought I could t-take him on myself. I thought I-I knew him, and now he’s got Red and you’re stuck here and I… I’m such an idiot.” with each word she spoke fainter and fainter, shaking with blood loss and emotion.

“Shhh shh, no don’t say that.” He tightened his arms around her, “You were the best flier in the team. The best fighter. I...” He paused, cutting himself off before he can say too much. “Alfore would be so proud of you. Tadica would be proud of you… they _are_ proud of you.”  _I'm proud of you._ The last part isn't said aloud. Lance wonders why he doesn't add that part. 

She took several shuddering breaths, that soon turned into raspy shallow inhales. His heart clenched.

“I’m sorry… for these last months...” Her words were just a whisper. “I love you.” Her eyes slipped closed.

“I love you too. I wish we…” he finally stopped holding back his tears now that she couldn’t see. They dripped silently down his cheeks, staining her ragged and already ruined shirt. She nuzzled into his neck, leaning into his warmth once more.

“I wish we had more time…” she finished his thought for him and fell silent again. Not long left, now. It took the end of the universe for them to make up, what did that say about them if they were supposed to be defenders of the peace? God, he'd been such a child. So much for an honorable way to die. 

But the universe isn’t ending? Right? This can’t be it? Lance’s feeble hopes don’t reach them. He feels like a puppet being controlled, or, rather being held back from taking action. Like he's just along for the ride, watching himself act out this tragedy. 

A distant, muffled rumbling sounded from inside his head. He recognized it at once. Purring. Red, from elsewhere on the ship, was purring to them. The comforting, steady hum settled his shaking hands and relaxed his shoulders. Everything will be ok, the purring said, I’m here. Despite the tears on his face, he smiled.

The voices were no longer coming from down the hall, but just around the corner. Closer and closer the soldiers’ metal boots echoed off the hallway walls in precession. In a moment they would see the blood and opened vent. In a moment they would find the two paladins.

Paladins? How is she a paladin, too? Why doesn’t Lance know her? Why doesn't he want her to die? Why does it break his heart to watch this? 

He reached out to Red, sending his final request to her through the rapidly fading mental link with her pilot. _I do not want to be taken prisoner,_ is all he says. The statement is clear, its meaning solemn and final.

The purring gets louder for a moment, and he knows she understood. He closes his eyes as the footsteps close in on their location. Cyrene exhaled a final breath and was still in his arms. The connection was severed, but he didn’t stop feeling Red.  

Leandros felt her open her jaws, the lion of fire mustering up as much burning energy as she can for one devastating blast, the light growing and growing between her teeth, simmering in the air around it before throwing it forward, into the central engine of the ship.

The ship rumbled around them, then lit up all at once. Everything is white. 

 

 

 

Lance sits bolt upright in bed, his legs tangled in the sheets like he’d been squirming and kicking. He’s not a fidgety sleeper. He’s breathing hard, like he’d just run a great distance and his heart is a machine gun in his chest. He’s shaking. Why is he shaking? It was just a dream. It wasn't real. He's ok. 

He shakily runs a hand through his hair, trying to piece it all together.

In the dream Lance wasn’t himself, and he’d died… but he felt like himself, but in the wrong place and time. Then there was that girl… she’d died too. In his arms.

He wraps them around himself at the memory of holding her. It felt too familiar but… he’d never seen her before. Holding her in his arms while she’d died…

He doesn’t notice he’s crying until the air conditioner’s breeze chills his cheeks. Why is he crying over a stranger? Why did the dream affect him so much that he’s furiously wiping at his face? It’s ridiculous, right? He’s never seen her before. She is a stranger to him. He’d never seen a snake alien before, especially not one with soft, angular features and dark, indigo eyes and messy dark hair. She’s a stranger.

Except he does recognize messy dark hair and indigo eyes. In fact those features are the same ones that stand out so clearly in Keith. Those features are what made him completely sure he'd just watched Keith die instead. Those are why he's scrambling out of his own bed to sneak across the hall to sleep. 

What the hell had Red done? 


	2. From Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura remembers and can't decide if it's better to forget or not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to clear up the last chapter  
> Red was present when Leandros and Cyrene died, therefor she was the one who sent Lance the dream/memory. Why did she chose to share it with Lance and not Keith? Well you shall see i suppose >:)))

Altea had two suns. This sky has two suns. This should be the first sign.

It’s warm here. The suns shine down on her back, perfectly pleasant and the breeze sends a beautiful ripple through the lavender flowers surrounding her. The meadow stretches for miles on either side, as far as the eye can see. The sky is a clear shade of light green with only a few brownish clouds in the sky. It's beautiful. It's peaceful. It's familiar. 

The clouds should be the second sign. Altea had gray brown clouds, unique to it alone. But Allura doesn’t catch it. She’s too enthralled by the warm breeze and serene air. It’s a perfect day. Perfect for relaxing and eating outside. No royal duties or important conventions to deal with. 

Two hands are suddenly on her shoulders, running down her arms then around her torso, embracing her. Allura leans into the touch with a giddy smile. She knows this touch. As she hoped, the body behind her matches her own for curves, though it bears more width. Round and soft are the legs curled up at her sides, concealed by the black bodysuit and white and black patterend armor (all but the breastplate, which was sat beside them both, half concealed by the flowers).

The hands slide back down her arms and link with Allura’s. She admires the fingers, shorter than her own and pale as the castle walls, before bringing them to her lips. She leaves gentle, tender kisses on each knuckle.

A giggle from just behind her ear sounds, clear and beautiful as the Altean it comes from. Allura shifts her body to face her company.

She is glowing. Her smile outshines the suns and her eyes the stars. Her teeth are crooked and her cheeks are flushed pink with light orange markings atop her cheekbones, but her eyes are what Allura loves the most. She could look at this face all day, has it memorized but still skims over the details today. Her long, dark lashes match her waist-length black hair and her eyelids are slanted against her coal dark irises. The faintest hint of dark red dotting her pupil gives her eyes the illusion of being made of molten rock. It’s beautiful, glowing, perfect, burning, kind, gentle,  _beautiful._

So warm and so full of life.

Gray, deadened and given up.  

What?

Allura’s smile drops away from the sudden difference. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared. The image hadn’t held for more than a split second. It remained in her mind, however. The image of her hollowed cheeks and emotionless and ruined eyes was… haunting, and impossible.

This sudden image of a broken, hurt paladin, should be the third sign. Were this a normal dream, she would wake up.

“Princess?” her voice is like nectar that coaxes Allura back from the shock of terror. “What’s wrong?” her pointed ears tilt down with concern.

“Nothing! Sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me.” She snuggles into the larger Altean, pressing her forehead into her neck.

The eyes of magma twinkle with amusement. “You’ve been drifting off more and more lately. Might want to be careful, lest someone sneak up on you.”

“Only you and Paskal are observant enough to notice, so I find it unlikely.” Allura replies, feeling her lay flat on the flowers so they are properly cuddling.

“And what makes you think I and Paskal won’t be the ones sneaking?” she puts one arm behind her head so she can better keep her gorgeous eyes on the princess.

“Because Paskal fears me, and you fear my father.” Allura trails one finger over her clothed collarbone. She sighs into the touch.

“Are you still so sure of that?”

“Mm.”

“I think, given my newest appointment, that the king and I are on equal status now, so what reason have I to fear him, hmm?”

“He still doesn’t know of our relationship. Perhaps I’ll consider telling him, should you decide to frighten me.”

“Oh really?” a single eyebrow lifted slowly, challenging.

“Really.” Allura smirked, thinking she’d won.

In a flash, she had switched their positions, pushing herself up and rolling the princess onto her back so she was pinned beneath her. A tiny, indignant yelp escapes Allura in her surprise.

Her lips turn up in amusement at her shock and she chuckles low in her chest before leaning down to nuzzle her nose into Allura’s neck. The princess’s breath catches in her throat. 

“Maybe I don’t care if he knows. Hmm? What about that?” her warm breath against her neck is sending Allura’s train of thought to a screeching halt and she takes a moment before she can form a reply.

“Then… I suppose I should anticipate quite a fright soon.” She manages to breathe out before jolting slightly when she felt the soft lips finally connect with skin. Just a few pecks at her pulse before trailing up to just under her ear. Allura tries to control her breathing against her natural reflex to squeak with every touch.

The lips move up to her jaw and she lets her eyes flutter closed. She missed this touch. 

 

It is dark behind her eyelids. She was just in the suns wasn’t she?

Slowly, despite trying to cling to the meadow and the soft hands, Allura feels her body come back to reality with her eyes. She’s lying in her bed with her arms wrapped around a pillow.

She slowly peels open her eyelids, forcing herself to accept the room around her. There’s a moment of serene quiet before the realization hits. She tightens her hold on the pillow.   

She hasn’t cried for Tadica in months. But just like that, one dream, and the pain is as fresh as when she’d first woken from the cryopod. 

Her tears drip down her cheeks and stain the pillow but she just clings tighter, muffling the whimpers and squeezing her eyes shut. She hates herself for dwelling on it, hates herself for not letting it go. Hates herself for not saving her. How could she have just abandoned her like that? Gone to sleep to wait out the fall of the universe with no care for even the ones she loved the most. 

Tadica is dead. She died thousands of years ago with Altea. Died with the rest of the former paladins of Voltron. Died with the team she’d lead for only a few months. Dead. Gone. Forever. Her breath comes in choked gasps and her entire body is wracked with the tremors from her sobbing.

Allura doesn’t feel any better crying about it, but she can’t stop. That is, not until she feels a cool, tiny paw on her cheek.

She gasps and flinches away, but it is only the mice, sat on the mountain of pillows beside her. Their faces are a collection of identical concern. Allura quickly sits up and wipes her cheeks dry, pathetically trying to compose herself for the four beings that it won't matter to. They can see right through her. 

She hears their question like they’d said it aloud, though she knows it was just a vague thought that her mental link translated into something she could understand. _Why do you cry?_

“It’s nothing, friends. I was just… dreaming.” She doesn't especially need to speak out loud, but finds it more comforting to do so. Less weird. 

_Was it a bad dream? Can we help?_

“No.” she says, before considering lying. They would probably be able to tell she was, anyway. “No, it…” Allura sniffles and wipes her nose with her sleeve. “It was a very good dream.”

_Why does it make you cry, then?_

She hugs the pillow again and looks away from their tiny faces.

 

“Because I woke up.”

 

 

 

Allura wishes she hadn’t woken up. In waking up she has to pretend that she is fine. Has to portray strength despite the renewed grief at the loss of her friend.

Friend.

Just thinking the word makes her feel like a liar, but she can’t bring herself to think of the truth. It will just make it worse. Attachment just makes it harder to detach. She knew that then, and regrets it now. 

The mice are worried for her still, despite her reassurances that she is fine. She is not fine.

Maybe she could convince Coran she is ill in order to stay in bed and avoid the rest of the castle. Actually, she knows she could convince Coran. Thinking of how easy it would be only makes her feel guilty about doing it.

Of course she wouldn’t do it anyway. She is a princess for quiznak’s sake. She can’t just hide in her room like a child. How silly is that?

So with a heavy chest she exits her room the next morning. She hopes her eyes aren’t still puffy since she’d taken careful precautions to make sure of otherwise. Pressing a cool, wet cloth to one’s eyes does wonders to hide one’s emotional breakdowns (a handy trick she'd learned not long after her mother passed away and she needed to convince her father she didn't require therapy). 

Everyone is already in the dining hall when she gets there. Well, everyone except Coran, who’s likely flying the ship or selecting their next location. He works so hard. She wonders when he sleeps. 

Allura sits down across from Shiro and regrets it. She’s thought it before and she’ll think it again today. He resembles Tadica in a most spooky manner.

Not in that they are exact replicas of each other, more so in small details that makes the resemblance hard to miss. She’ll look at him and think that his nose is the same shape, or his eyes are tilted the same or that his smile is just as bright.

Seeing him eating across from her with his spoon in his left hand (which is shaking, due to him not being left-handed.) doesn’t help her keep a casual visage.

“Gooood morning, Princess!” Lance sits up cheerfully when she enters.

“Hello Lance.” She tries to sound enthusiastic, really.

“I take it you’re pretty tired?” He leans forward with a smug smile and Allura's eyes widen. 

“W-what? How did you-“

“Seeing as you were running through my dreams last night.” Lance finishes the rotten flirt grins before Shiro delivers a sharp smack to the back of his head, knocking over his bowl in the process.

“It’s too early for this.” Pidge groans, rubbing their eyes behind their glasses. 

“You said it wrong too.” Keith deadpans. “You’re supposed to ask if they’re tired, then say they’ve been running through your mind.”

“Ooo, aren’t you some romantical genius.” Lance sneers. They are sitting right beside each other as usual. And, as usual, Allura wonders why they sit so close when they bicker so much.

“Guys, Pidge is right. It’s too early for this. At least wait until, like, noon before you start.” Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose. Allura says nothing, and hardly notices the look he gives her a second later.

Hunk passes Lance a towel to clean up the spilled food goo.

“You do look tired, though. Is everything alright?” Shiro’s eyebrows furrow in concern. He is so young, just barely younger than Allura (physically, not literally) but his face bears the stressed creases of someone much, much older. When he speaks softly, with that compassionate tone, and his eyes soften… that is when he reminds her of Tadica the most.

“I… I haven’t slept well, I’ll admit.” oh well, why bother trying to pretend. 

“Maybe you should go back to sleep. We don’t have any training exercises planned today.”

“Perhaps so.”  She doubts she’ll fall asleep but there is no harm in putting his conscience to rest. “But I did intend to give you a writing lesson today I-“

“We’ve got books to practice on, we’ll be fine taking a day off.” Shiro waved a hand at her. “Really, you look dead on your feet. Everyone deserves a break.”

“Dead on my… but I’m not standing…” Allura cocks her head in confusion.

“It’s a human expression.” Hunk quickly comes to her aid. “It means you just look really tired or sick. Kind of a general way of saying you don’t look 100%.”

“Ah. I see.” Allura nods. Dead on your feet. She’d have to remember that for future use. Humans have such entertaining metaphors. “I suppose I’ll eat first then return to bed.”

Hunk reaches for the large bowl of food goo and it’s passed from Keith, to Lance, to Allura in turn.

In her ‘dead on her feet’ state, she doesn’t notice when Keith passes the bowl to Lance his hands stall slightly. She doesn’t notice the way their hands very purposefully touch in the process, and definitely not the quick meeting of their eyes or the way Lance’s expression softens. She doesn’t notice them look away too quickly or them shift subtly closer to each other.

She doesn’t notice anything, but Shiro does.

He quickly finishes his food and stands up, not offering an excuse before he’s out of the room. Allura follows behind a few seconds later, not having had the stomach for much.

She doesn’t go to her room. She goes to the black lion’s hangar. It helps no more this time than it did the previous times she’s visited it to try and settle some of the pain.

She’s not there to ask her for comfort. She knows the dream wasn’t from her own mind. Allura wants to ask Black why.

Why would she have to reopen that wound? Typically when one is trying to move forward, those closest to them don't try to pull them back. 

The blackness of space outside the windows only reminds her of the two suns from the sky of her dream. 


	3. From Cyrene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith gets a turn on the angst train   
> hoot hoot we're moving out folks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i havent updated in awhile, was working on other stuff. Luckily, the way i've planned this fic makes it still work with canon since season 2 came out. Yes i'm aware zarkon was the black paladin, i had that theory from before and i am working with it. just trust me. >:)))

Lance is acting strange today. Keith comes to this conclusion very early on.

It isn’t an uncommon thing for them now, to creep into the other’s room at night because of some sort of sleeping issues. Insomnia and nightmares can plague any of the teammates, and last night Keith is pretty sure that Lance dealt with the latter of the two.

However, unlike his normal nightmares, Lance hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Which is strange, because usually that’s how he gets past those subconscious emotions that bother him at night. This nightmare seemed different. Like he’d done something wrong and was too ashamed to admit it.

Like a child hiding the broken plate. What had Lance done that shook him so hard?  

The fact that he seems affected long term by it was the strangest thing. Because Lance isn’t one to dwell on something. Well, aside from grudges. He doesn’t typically linger over his own mistakes so he’s able to better play up his strengths. So something must be genuinely wrong.

This is all that Keith can decide upon for certain.

Sitting in the dining hall, they had subtly arranged the meeting. Lance sits with a bowl of food goo while Keith hunches forward reading an Altean children’s book, a page of English-to-Altean translation runes held in this opposite hand. His eyes flick between the translator and the book, the little illustration doing very little to help him understand what’s happening.

This is the extent of their relationship currently, sneaking around to try and inconspicuously be alone together so they can awkwardly hold hands. Also they kiss sometimes. It’s all very juvenile right now. The main point is that they like each other and are finally aware of it. That knowledge is enough for now.

Lance hadn’t wanted to concern the team with the drama of it yet. He is selfless like that, sometimes. Apparently his relationships tended to crash and burn because he rushed into them (if you can imagine that), so he’d insisted they take this one slow. Keep it a secret until they were sure it was stable enough to not hurt the team.

Keith had to hand it to Lance for this. He would just as soon do the opposite, but the blue paladin had made a great point. Should something go wrong, they don’t want to bring the team down. The entire universe kind of depends on them.  

He is no less content with it.

Secret meetings like this were… sort of childishly fun, in a way. They’d had several close calls but nobody had shown any suspicion thus far.

Keith’s eyes flick to Lance’s face, barely in the corner of his vision, for perhaps the twentieth time that hour. One part because he just enjoys looking at him, and another part because he’s worried. Lance is still acting strange.

Keith turns the page of his book and sneaks another glance at Lance, who catches his eye this time.

“See something you like?” he smiles, lifting his spoon.

“You know the answer to that.” The corners of Keith’s mouth twitch in amusement.

“Hee hee, yeah I do.” Lance fucking _giggles_. God, he’s so adorable sometimes. Keith tries to not dwell on this right now and instead focus back on his book.

“So last night,” he doesn’t look up at him, but feels him stiffen. “still don’t remember your dream?”

Lance hesitates, like he wants to say something. That seals it for Keith. He definitely remembers it, but just doesn’t want to tell what it was. What on earth could be so bad?  

“Ehh it was just… really blurry and spooky. It’s no big deal.” There he goes again, shouldering aside his own issues in favor of other stuff. “Besides it gave me an excuse to cuddle you!” and there he goes joking around to pretend it’s not that bad. Keith doesn’t buy it.

“Since when did you need an excuse?”

“Since last night, obviously.” Lance nudges his shoulder.

“Right.” Keith just rolls his eyes and elects to drop the subject for now. Lance would avoid the topic for as long as he could before it broke him. Keith figured he could wait a little longer. He’d be more likely to explain it finally if he was bothered by it for a while, anyway. Persisting isn’t the course of action to take.

They fall into silence again. Lance knows that Keith doesn’t believe him, he manages to work that out in the next few bites of his food. The fact that he doesn’t continue to push the matter is a massive comfort. They’d kind of had that closeness even before they started dating. They understand the other and know how to help.

He pauses, then reaches over and takes Keith’s hand. He squeezes after a moment. It says more than speaking out loud, the gentle pressure settling their thoughts. _I’ll be alright, don’t worry, thank you._

They might’ve burned each other for how fast they break apart when Hunk sounds just feet outside of the door.

“Hey Lance do you-Are you ok?” In his panic, Lance had shoveled down a much-too-big spoonful of food and started choking. He coughs for several seconds, trying to clear his airway.

“If you chewed with your mouth closed you wouldn’t choke.” Keith mutters, looking very pointedly at his book and praying that Hunk doesn’t notice the warmth on his cheeks. They really need to remember to close the dining hall’s door. It was just so suspicious when closed.

Lance manages to breath without dying after another second. “Yeah but if I did that it wouldn’t bother you as much.”

“Right, what an unthinkable possibility.”

It sometimes surprises Keith how easy it is to act like there’s nothing between them when others are around. They both fall right back into that seamless banter and no one is any the wiser.

Hunk laughs at the sarcasm. Of course he does. It is just like Lance to go out of his way to eat beside Keith while he’s trying to read just to piss the guy off. Why question it? Keith feels his blush receding and his shoulders relaxing.

“Anyway, Lance I was gonna do some target practice in an hour, wanna join me?” Hunk asks. Lately the training deck has been getting more and more popular with the paladins, seeing as they were doing more direct fighting with the galra on planet surfaces.

“Yeah sure. I’ll finish up here and go get changed.” Lance reaches for his spoon again.

“I’m gonna go ahead of you two. Want to get in a sparring match before you two break the peace. Plus I’m tired of hearing Lance chew.” Keith stands up, folding his book and grabbing his jacket.

“You’re not gonna change clothes first?” Lance raises an eyebrow.

“No?” Keith pats his back pocket to make sure his bayard is there, which it is, as always.

“Ew! But you’ll get all sweaty and gross!” Lance looks personally affronted.

“I’ll change clothes after.”

“Into what?”

“Why do _you_ care?” Keith folds his arms in his signature ‘grump stance’.

“Uhm, because we all have to be around you when you’re done! I’m looking out for the team as much as myself.” Lance went to gesture to Hunk, whose back is just disappearing back through the doorway. The mechanics hiss as it closes behind him. “Hunk is on my side.”

“Right.” Keith rolled his eyes and pulled his jacket over his shoulders.

“Wait, you’re really going?” Lance’s entire outward expression does an abrupt one-eighty, going from annoyed and spiteful to disappointed and vulnerable. Keith almost sits back down.

“Yeah. I was serious. We can meet in the orange lounge later, after dinner, ok?” his face softens and he briefly takes Lance’s hand again. Lance pauses defiantly before nodding and Keith heads out behind Hunk.

 

 

The training deck is by far the place Keith is the most comfortable, save for his and Lance’s bedrooms. The lounges and observatory deck are nice but he doesn’t belong at the geniuses’ table with everyone else there. Something about being introverted save for specific locations, blah blah.

Since coming to space, Keith has been improving rapidly. He used to like to think of himself as a decent fighter, but taking down a few medical agents in biohazard suits really isn’t much to brag about. Being stuck in the middle of a war, one needed more than to be able to throw a punch.

Sword fighting is a pretty decent alternative.

Keith pulls off his jacket and tosses it onto the steps.

“Begin training simulation level three.” Usually he starts small and works up to the higher levels, but today he only has an hour so he figures he might as well skip the first few levels. No time for a warmup.

From the ceiling, a panel opens and the familiar white and gold robot descends. It does its usual ‘superhero landing’ as Lance would call it and raises its sword. 

Keith rolls his shoulders and his bayard flickers to life. He drops into his natural fighting stance while the camera at the face of the gladiator bot focuses on him, connecting him as the opponent.

It rushes forward with a wide swing of its own blade and Keith dodges seamlessly. It always starts this way. He lands a kick to its back and it whirls around before it can fall. The familiar motions repeat like that. The bot dashes back, this time aiming at his shoulder.

Keith brings his blade up to clang against it.

 

It clacks against the chain, sending the heavy spiked ball spiraling around her wrist. She abruptly drops her own curved blade to avoid the massive weight to the face. Before he could process that he’d taken her weapon, she’s landed a kick to his side and recovered it.

She smirks, brushing hair from her face while he glares a few feet away. The fish-like alien is wearing paladin armor and the fins on his face twitch with each little emotion. It’s adorable.

“You’re improving fast. But not fast enough.” She stands straight and swishes her tail. He eyes the movement, cloudy white eyes examining her body language for an opening.

“I’m only as good as my teacher.” One hip out to the side, his bayard flung haphazardly over his shoulder by the chain.

“Hmm then I should probably tell them to step up. You’re still too easy to beat.” She adjusts the angle that she’s holding her sickle at, bringing it to a closer defense position.

“I’m sure your mirror will appreciate the attention; you so rarely check it.”

“Why do I need to look at myself when I can see you?” she winks.

“Flattery will not make me go easy on you.” He rolls the morning star back over his shoulder, crouching and preparing to strike again.

“I was actually hoping it’d anger you and make you fight harder, but if you want to lose so quickly…”

“You talk so big for someone so small.” She twitches, now he’s done it.

“Then why don’t I bring you down to size!” he is prepared for her attack, knowing the jab at her height would push her over the edge and has already brought the handle of his bayard to block.

He skids back a foot before twisting to dislodge the curved blade. It doesn’t get enough momentum to actually make a strong blow out of the heavy star but she still is forced to re-stabilize her stance.

Back and forth, she throws attacks at him with her sickle while he blocks and dodges. After a few ticks of this she steps back, glaring at him again. Her forked tongue flicks out in irritation.

“You think you can outlast and tire me?” he doesn’t answer, just flashes his long, sharp teeth in a smirk that enrages her.

She lunges back again, and he finally swings the heavy star at her. She blocks it by the chain and attempts to wrench it away. Holding on, he allows himself to be yanked forward, into her arms. He wraps his own around her and, in an instant, has her locked in his embrace.

She struggles, then pauses, realizing what he’d done. She raises an unimpressed line of scales above her eye.

“Really?”

He chuckles and nuzzles into her hair, happily squeezing her tighter.

“You’re a child.” She rolls her eyes and rests her chin on his shoulder, feeling her body warm up from the contact. She really loved holding others like this, but found it hard to admit. Nobody else on the team has as naturally high body temperatures as Leandros.

“You’re the one cuddling up to me, so what does that say about you?” the click of his teeth when he speaks is audible from up close.

“ _You_ grabbed _me_ up.”

“Are you complaining?”

“This is cheating.”

“Just admit I win.” Like hell. With a slight hiss she nuzzles closer to his neck, before wrapping her tail around both his ankles.

“WoA-H!” She forcefully yanks them away and he topples forward, stumbling into her and taking them both to the ground with the weight of his flail. They huff when they land and their bayards disappear in a flash of light as the fight leaves their limbs.

She’s laughing, but it takes him a solid few seconds to realize that that is what the sound is. It’s sort of a choked wheeze and the occasional cough and he stares at her for several seconds before snorting himself.

The fight forgotten, they lay there cackling for a solid few minutes before he pushes himself upright once again.

“Now who’s the cheater?” he asks, offering one webbed hand to her. Once she’s pulled to her feet she manages to contain her shaking enough to answer.

“Still you. But I suppose we can call it a draw for now.”

“I thought the red paladin never lost?”

“It’s not a loss. It’s a tactically based, mutual understanding of our skills.”

He blinks his see-through eyelids twice. “You lost me.”

She sighs and scoops up her bayard again. “Come on. Let’s get in one more match before Prince Alfore calls us for lunch.”

“ _King_ Alfore, remember?”

“Oh! Right. He’s king now.” she tilts her head for a moment, deep in thought.

“Still getting used to it?”

“I suppose it is a change, we can’t be as informal with him now. He’ll also take up controlling the castle so…” she trails off, looking withdrawn. After a second of quiet, he steps forward and wraps an arm around her.

“I’m sure that whoever the Yellow Lion chooses will be just as great as he was.” She doesn’t move. He takes her chin between his fingers and makes her look up at him. “Hey. I know how much you don’t like change, and I understand that this is a big one. If you want to talk about it, you can. I trust Voltron, and I know you do too.”

She smiles up at him, then moves onto her toes to close the distance. It’s a short kiss, but they usually are. She’d learned long ago that he didn’t particularly like the texture of her scales on his face like that, and she had never been thrilled to be so close to his frighteningly sharp teeth.

“Thank you for understanding. Now!” she’s pulled away and is back in her battle stance once again, tail flickering back and forth. “One more match. You really are improving and I can’t let you go all soft on me before our new Yellow Paladin joins. Won’t you want to impress them?”

“I only care about impressing you, but if beating you again will do that then who am I to argue?” he scoops up his bayard again, and the morning star flickers back to life, starting from the end of the chain, down to the heavy spike at the end.

Her own blade returns and she rushes forward before giving him another moment to prepare.

 

The gladiator bot’s sword clangs against his own. Keith had blocked it. He stumbles away, staring around the room in confusion and fear. Distracted, the bot lands a punch to his side.

“End training sequence!” he pants desperately. It disappears in a collection of fragmented light, as per usual. He hadn’t been fighting for long, had he? Why is he so out of breath? Why is his heart fluttering like this? Who was that alien he’d just seen?

He sits down at the edge of the room to think. He had never seen the fish thing before, but he’d been wearing paladin armor. Upon shifting, Keith becomes aware that he also no longer has a tail like he’d temporarily thought. It’s strange to notice the difference when before he hadn’t.

Had he just had a vision of some sorts?

He takes a breath and closes his eyes, trying to recapture the experience.

His voice had been different. Higher. He’d been fighting with a sickle, not a double-edged sword. His bayard handle still looked the same, though. His hair had also been longer. Keith doesn’t want to think of the glaringly obvious difference between him and the other paladin.

He moves onto the fish alien. He’d been in the blue paladin’s armor. Keith can’t remember his name now, but he recalled thinking it. He remembered the other blue paladin being warm, really warm. Had Keith been cold-blooded or something?

It wouldn’t be impossible, but he’s getting off track. They’d been talking about a new yellow paladin because someone… Alfore… had become king!

A vision from the past then? Allura mentioned once that there were paladins of Voltron before them.

Keith thinks back to the former blue paladin. Something about him makes Keith feel strange. Like he’s met him before or something. One of those bullshit cinema tropes people talk about but nobody ever really feels. Well, now Keith is feeling it.

The door to the training deck slides open.

“…all I’m asking is, do you think it would be illegal on a planet where something like that _isn’t_ socially unacceptable?”

“I sure hope so, Lance.”

“Aww don’t be lame.”

Keith is already standing up, yanking back on his jacket. Somewhere, his mind is screaming something very obvious about Lance, but that’s overshadowed by the part of his mind trying to process that an hour had already passed since he left the dining hall earlier.

“Hey, Keith? Didn’t know you’d still be here.” Lance pauses beside Hunk to watch Keith shuffle out at a suspiciously hurried speed.

“Yeah, got carried away. Have fun.”

“Uh, bye Keith?” Hunk mumbles, confused, as the door swishes shut behind him.

Keith stops just a few hallways away, mind still on the vision. He’d seen the former blue paladin from the former red paladin’s eyes. What the hell did that even mean? Was he some kind of reincarnation of them or something? It sounds so freaking stupid, like the whole saviors of the universe spiel isn’t already contrived and cinematic as is.

If he’s not a reincarnation, then how did he get the vision? Keith runs a hand through his hair, thinking.

Maybe Red had something to do with it. Maybe it was his lion trying to show him something. Yeah. That would make sense. Red had given him visions before (though they had always come while he was flying and needed to learn some new trick). Keith sets out to her hangar.

 

Later, after receiving no sign from his lion that she knew anything about the vision, Keith would think about it again. Something about the blue paladin he’d seen kept resurfacing in his mind. He didn’t look familiar. He was a freaking alien fish thing.

It would dawn on Keith at dinner, while he is bickering with Lance as per usual.

His voice. Lance and the other paladin had the exact same voice. Keith would excuse himself from dinner early, the revelation sending him reeling.

That the hell is going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to make up for the long wait, im gonna be making the chapters steadily longer with each update

**Author's Note:**

> i havent written angst in a long while i sure hope i still got what it takes


End file.
